


Three Is Better Than Two

by thegaygladers



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, idk what this is, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:43:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5262914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegaygladers/pseuds/thegaygladers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt and Minho, quite inevitably, have got a thing for the newbie.<br/>But who will Thomas choose?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Is Better Than Two

**Author's Note:**

> please forgive me for this shit.

“Smile more,” Minho said, flopping down beside Thomas, who was sitting, doing nothing in particular, against a log in a corner of the glade.

“Huh?”

“Smile more, shuckface. It looks good on you.”

“…Are you okay?” Thomas smirked, ruffling Minho’s hair playfully.

“What d’you mean?”

“You, praising me, and without any prompting as well. It’s  _unseemly_.”

“Shut up, slinthead. I compliment you shitloads. More than you deserve, in fact.”

“Ah, you’re back.”

“Got a wee lil crush, have we, Min Min?” Newt joined in, seeming to materialize from thin air. The blond boy nudged Minho’s back with his arm, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning. Thomas had a feeling there was something not quite genuine in the smile.

“You know what? Nevermind. I hate you shanks. I’m out,” Minho said, getting up. “Have fun chatting up your darling Tommy,” he said to Newt, sending a short but pointed glare at him when the boy was not looking.

Why did Newt have to intrude all the time?

Newt didn’t stop Minho, and neither did Thomas, though he was looking rather confused. Minho huffed and pumped up his chest, walking away dramatically.

“What was that all about?” Thomas asked, amused at his friends’ sudden, weird change in behavior.

“Never mind him, Tommy. He’s just in one of his moods,” Newt sidled impossibly closer to Thomas. “So, how has your day been going?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows, pondering over why he was being subjected to so much attention all of a sudden.

“Bloody hell,” Newt muttered to himself. “I meant: why are you sitting alone like this?”

Thomas raised his eyebrows higher still; they seemed to disappear under his hairline.

“Shuck it,” the blond whispered incomprehensibly.

Thomas was getting more perplexed by the second, it was his day off! He didn’t mind Newt’s intrusion so much though, because he was enjoying the burning scarlet spreading in Newt’s cheeks as the boy struggled to find words.

Newt was saved the effort, however, when they were interrupted by yet another Glader.

Chuck.

The boy, for some reason, was eyeing Newt suspiciously.

It was Newt’s turn with the raised eyebrows.

“What’s up, Chuckie?” Newt said in fake high spirits, trying to prevent him from stuttering under the younger boy’s penetrating gaze.

Chuck ignored him, and spoke to Thomas.

“Thomas, can I talk to you for a sec?” Chuck gestured meaningfully with his thumb to the back of the homestead.

Thomas thought his head might tear open with exertion; his eyebrows were so high up into his hair.

“Uh…sure, why not,” Thomas brushed the grass off his butt, and shot Newt an apologetic look. “Excuse us for a minute, hm?”

“Quit being so formal, Tommy. Go on.”

Once Thomas and Chuck were safely behind the Homestead, a safe distance away from eavesdroppers and onlookers, Chuck sighed.

It was a long, exasperated sigh that seemed to go on forever, and ever, and  _ever_.

“What the hell, Chuck-”

“Do you have any idea at all? Ever? About  _anything_?  _How_  do you manage to be so oblivious all the time?” Chuck asked, sounding way too world weary and wise for a twelve year old.

“What are you talkin-”

“Have you no idea at all? They couldn’t get more shucking obvious.”

“Who? What? Chuck-”

“Minho and Newt!  _For the love of god_ , Thomas. Don’t tell me you didn’t know this.”

“Chuck-What are you-”

“They both have bloody  _hard_  hard ons for you! Both of those shanks! They are both in this weird unsaid competition thing to win you over! Well, maybe Newt isn’t as intense… but Minho! He  _wants_  to go there-”

“Woah, woah, woah, slim it. What?”

“Jesus Christ, you are one stupid slinthead,” Chuck shook his head, sighed again, his face was rosier than usual. “Thomas, my  _buddy_. Because you are so unbelievably shucking dumb, I will tell you this: Minho and Newt both have crushes on you. Big crushes. Like, the size of Frypan. It’s as noticeable as Newt’s unnaturally sticky-outy veins.”

“Oh?” Thomas smirked. “Well, I  _am_  quite attractive, you know.”

“Wha- wait- wait- this wasn’t supposed to happen-”

“This is great. I was wondering when I could get my hands on those two! This is wonderful. Oh thank you, thank you, man! I love you!”

Thomas engulfed Chuck in a hug so tight it constricted the younger boy’s breathing.

“What- Thomas, no-”

“Yes!”

 ***

THREE HOURS LATER

“Can those three like, give it a rest?” Gally moaned, frustrated, from where he was playing with Ben’s hair. “They’ve been at it for hours and hours and  _hours_. They’ve beaten me and Ben, even.”

“I can’t believe I am the reason for this,” Chuck groaned, mortified. His face was radiating heat in close proximity of the sun as he watched the closed door - behind which Minho, Thomas and Newt had disappeared - in horror.

There was lots of moaning and screaming and panting in three different voices escaping through the gap under, but thankfully it was muffled by the thick wood of the door.

“I hate you,” came a chorus of grunts from various different gladers.

“I hate myself too,” the young boy breathed before collapsing to the floor in a pitiful, awkward mess. “What have I done.”


End file.
